


wear your heart on your sleeve (turn your jacket inside out)

by nevergreen



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Kissing, Light Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, a whole lot of it, just a teeny tiny bit of angst i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:28:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29000712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevergreen/pseuds/nevergreen
Summary: There are different rooms, different kinds of videos, cities and countries they film in, things they do; but as soon as the world no longer sees them, no matter what has happened, the first few seconds of them alone, the first thing they do is a renewed promise, a silent confession, a manifestation of everything they share.It doesn’t matter if keeping it to themselves is the only way to have what they have – as long as they are what they are.
Relationships: Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Comments: 2
Kudos: 47





	wear your heart on your sleeve (turn your jacket inside out)

**Author's Note:**

> an alternative title: me abusing kisses as a narrative tool for the 985984758th time  
> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/twosetforti), come say hi

It’s their most long-living tradition, started way back in the days of them working and living in different cities, something that has bloomed out of scarce days they spent together, with hundreds and thousands phone calls and texts in between, with people watching them, always there, always around. It used to ground them, to reassure, to remind each other: _I’m here and we’re in this together_. No time should be wasted, and so it came to them naturally, and stayed: as soon as the camera’s off, they kiss.

There are different rooms, different kinds of videos, cities and countries they film in, things they do; but as soon as the world no longer sees them, no matter what has happened, the first few seconds of them alone, the first thing they do is a renewed promise, a silent confession, a manifestation of everything they share.  


It doesn’t matter if keeping it to themselves is the only way to have what they have – as long as they are what they are. The symphony they play together is the most beautiful thing he has ever experienced - with dynamic markings ranged from friends to best friends to lovers, and Eddy is pretty sure they’ll evolve into something else, majestic and glorious.  
As long as no one else is watching them.

It’s a sunny day, the air in the park sounds like birds and smells like salt, and no one cares about two boys on the bench – one with a camera on his lap, another dressed way too warm even for the middle of August. Brett kisses Eddy’s mouth, full of laughter, and starts laughing too; they have just filmed an utter disaster, something wonderfully underproduced, eager and hilarious, and they feel so alive, like they’ve been chosen by the world itself. They’ve never been here before, and exploring each other thoroughly and exploring the world together feels equally breathtaking.

The only thing they feel is each other’s presence. Every time they close their eyes, they smile more. People don’t look at them; they don’t know them, not yet. They’re impatient, and fearful, and so, so goddamn happy. 

At Brett’s home, they film three videos a day, just in case they won’t get the chance to film more soon; and after finishing each of them Eddy drags Brett to his lap and kisses him, quick and deep and longing, after looking around just in case. No one knows, and no one will; a blind eye of the camera sealed shut.  


They make a mess of each other, eventually, they’re bound to do so when they have enough time, and today belongs to them, so Eddy runs his fingers through Brett’s hair, and tugs softly, gliding his tongue over the lower lip. It’s cracked, and there’s blood coming out; Eddy kisses over thin chapped skin, and Brett tastes like blood and milk tea, faintly. It’s half an hour till his parents are back. So much time on their hands.

There are two laptops, and a bottle of water, and a microphone, a power bank, a remote control from the air conditioning unit, and a half-eaten chocolate candy Eddy couldn’t finish; all piled up on a small table in Eddy’s filming room, so they have to be extra careful around it. Eddy’s back is sore; their chairs are designed for dinner parties and not for sitting on them all day long, and them not moving much doesn’t help.  


Today, Brett is the first to lean in and Eddy is the one to embrace. They share a kiss that is self-indulgent, mellow and oh so tender; the air conditioning unit is whirring quietly. “We should get new chairs,” Brett whispers in a kiss and smiles; he finds it so funny to play along with this whole ‘couples being domestic together’ thing, but Eddy likes it, actually, and Brett spends here so much time that everything he says doesn’t sound wild anymore.

It still feels off, though, as if that’s something they’re not supposed to have; and it’s not like they want it. Eddy doesn’t want – not this. He’s not actually sure what it is, scratching on him, small and annoying at times. It’s the same feeling he gets when he can’t take Brett’s hand in public or when Brett is leaning on his shoulder when he’s driving them home.  


Still, the way Brett says it makes Eddy shiver in the most pleasant way and hum against his lips, low and contentedly. Time flies by so fast.

Brett’s laughter echoes under the high ceiling of the studio, joined by others; cameras are off, but they rented the place for two hours, so there are about ten more minutes to chat and take photos. Brett does just that; Eddy throws the wig away and looks at him, alive and glowing – laughing at someone’s joke, brushing fingers through his hair. His eyes locked on Eddy, though; the back of Eddy’s hand is burning. So he laughs with them, and gestures a lot, and throws his hands around but doesn’t touch Brett at all, and _it’s tricky and we need to wait_ rumbles in his chest.  


Eventually, they’re alone, and it feels like it’s been a few hours between cutting the cameras and this moment; Eddy takes Brett by the shoulder and cups his face, and he’s insatiable and fervent, to the point it leaves him breathless against Brett’s pliant mouth.  


There’s no time to spare, but between being seen and waiting more, choosing the latter is harder every time.

It’s so big, that secret, that mystery surrounded by a thousand barriers they’ve built carefully over the years, it consumes everything it touches. It asks for more every day, so they have so little for other things they should worry about.  
But every kiss is grounding, still, and is a reminder of how they have each other no matter what, how they always will. And so Eddy hates the way he can’t understand why it isn’t what he wants anymore.

He still loves Brett, it’s not a matter of question; Eddy actually can’t imagine himself questioning this. He loves Brett, breathtakingly so, and trusts him with everything he has; so he does the most sensible thing, something that people in love do, when they feel something’s wrong with their relationship. He cries a little, first, then he tells Brett, and then he cries a lot.

And Brett says, brushing Eddy’s hair with the slender fingers:  
“Maybe we just don’t need reminders.”

“What do you mean?” Eddy’s voice is a bit hoarse and he squeezes his eyes shut while pressing a wet cheek to Brett’s lap, just a bit ashamed of how much he cried over the past half an hour. Brett’s hands feel so nice; he strokes Eddy’s head gently and there’s warmth and assurance and tenderness spilling through. The world will never know, Eddy reminds himself out of habit, and suddenly stills.

“It’s not like anything’s going to happen, right?” Brett shrugs and leans back, his hands never stopping. “You said we had to keep it to ourselves to have it. For real. I mean, I thought the same. Then – boom - we’re viral, and so much stuff is happening at once.”

They’re silent for a while, Brett is still playing with Eddy’s hair, absentmindedly, and Eddy knows he’s thinking hard. “I’m okay with keeping it a secret,” he says at last, slowly, and pauses. “I think you’re just tired of this,” he continues, then, and Eddy sniffs and hugs his waist with both of his arms, and hides his face in Brett’s t-shirt, taking a lungful of air, with the smell that is the most comforting. “Hiding stuff.”

“We can think about it,” Eddy mumbles somewhere in Brett’s stomach, but can’t shake off the feeling that he can’t name yet, the one that enkindles and bursts up in his chest when he thinks about kissing Brett for everyone to see; and so he lets go off him and sits up and kisses Brett for real, and it’s neither sad nor apologetic, but needy, and open-mouthed, and quickly evolves into the ravenous hands and breathy voice filling the space. Eddy has no idea what’s gotten into him; but when Brett echoes “yes, yes, we can” to his lips, it all comes together, little by little.

It doesn’t leave him less surprised when Brett stops him, reaching for the camera to cut it off, a month later. At first Eddy thinks he forgot to tell something; and sure, they don’t have scripts, but they discuss what they’re going to film, at least, so it’s unlike Brett to openly improvise on the spot like that.  
He never does that – but there he is; his hand is warm on Eddy’s forearm. “It’s our 1000th video, dude,” he says, and the corners of his eyes are up as if he’s about to break his pretense and laugh. “Let’s make them a gift.”  
And he leans in; the kiss is shaky, and anxious, and full of trust; a supernova bursts in Eddy’s chest, his lips feel numb and it’s a new agreement of them, their eternal _I’m here and we’re in this together_ , with an addition of Brett kissing away _and so what_ from Eddy’s lips.

“Not so scary, eh,” Brett breathes out as grasps on Eddy’s shoulder; he’s breathing heavily. “That one’s for you. You get to decide if you want to leave it or cut out.”

“I think I know,” Eddy says slowly, and Brett passes him his phone before Eddy reaches for his own. Their fingers are jittery; Eddy stumbles through letters, quick and messy, and sends the text to their editor; then kneels down before Brett’s chair and kisses his fingertips till they stop shaking.

 _It’s just a thing, it’s just a thing, it’s just a thing_ , and millions of eyes, and so what.

“Turn it off now, I didn’t sign up for the home video session,” Brett mutters, and Eddy stands up and kisses him properly, now.  


“It’s going to run out of power soon, anyway,” he says, and it’s ridiculous, really, how he’s always right about these things.


End file.
